Hairballs
by Leif Johnson
Summary: The truly insane crossover between the great movie 'Spaceballs' and the great anime 'Ranma 1/2!' Will Lone Stallion save the planet Do'idia from the Threat? Who knows? Certainly not his enemies...
1. The Good, the Bad, and the Ones with Fun...

Hairballs  
By Leif Johnson  
  
Chapter 1  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from Spaceballs, or the   
characters from Ranma 1/2. Although, technically, these characters are   
from neither (different names, ya see). Well, they're mostly not my   
creation.  
  
***  
  
A long, long, long, time into the future, (which means this hasn't   
happened yet, but just might) in a galaxy within eyesight, Chaos was   
stirring. But the soup had just finished, so further stirring was   
unnecessary.  
A race known as the FaceFaults was facing a looming threat. Unable   
to assume a defense, they were soon assaulted with sweaters.  
There was a shortage on Planet FaceFault, a dangerous one. The   
race was rapidly losing its supply of hair.  
It was known that the peaceful planet 'Do-idia was the only planet   
in the galaxy that owned the most famous artifact ever known. This   
artifact was known as the Mountain 'Do. It was a mysterious strand of   
hair that only grew at the very tops of mountains. Once the hair was   
consumed, the consumer would gain the ability to shape their own hair   
in any way they wished. It could speed up hair growth to 20 times the   
normal rate, if the person wanted it so.  
As this was the perfect solution to the FaceFault's problem, they   
immediately began scheming to steal the planet's supply of Mountain   
'Dos. But, they needed the combination to the lock on the planetary   
shield surrounding 'Do-idia, and decided to capture Princess Vexed, who   
was about to be wed to Prince Nyquil, the last remaining prince in the   
galaxy.  
Planet 'Do-idia would soon wish it had never been heard of by the   
race that caused unwanted facial bruises every time one uttered their   
name...  
  
***  
  
Aboard the FaceFault's most prized ship, one man stood, alert. He   
was dressed in a silver and yellow uniform, and wore a yellow and black   
bandana over his head. However, it was now worn fully covering his   
head, gangster style, rather than the headband style he usually wore it   
in. When asked why, he merely stammered nervously, and conveniently had   
a coughing fit. At the moment, he was gazing at the beautiful display   
before him. Space was such an amazing thing, he thought.  
The rest of the men in the bridge tried to ignore their commander,   
who was intensely staring at a large-screen computer's screensaver.  
One man carefully read the readings on the screen before him, then   
swiveled his chair to face his commander. "Colonel Headbare!"  
The colonel twitched, then immediately kicked the speaker into the   
ceiling. "That's HEADWEAR, you idiot!" he shouted angrily.  
The other man fell to the floor with an ungraceful *fwump*, then   
sprang up and said, "Sorry sir. But, you told me to tell you when..."   
he trailed off.  
"We..." a man three terminals down continued.  
"Were..."  
"Approaching..."  
"Planet..."  
"'Do-idia."  
Colonel Headwear nervously glanced around at all the men who had   
spoken, and reminded himself to try not to wander while giving orders.   
Regaining his composure, he replied, "So?"  
"We..." the first man started.  
"Are..." continued the next man.  
"All right!" Headwear yelled. "I get it!"  
Suddenly, klaxons blared and a trumpet fanfare was heard. Lights   
flashed and a holographic helmet flickered around the ceiling before   
disappearing.  
"All rise in the presence of Thunder Helmet," Colonel Headwear   
said, not-so-proudly. The door at the end of the room began to rise   
slowly, revealing a tall man standing there, dressed in a blue and   
black Kendo outfit with a black cape dragging on the floor. An enormous   
samurai helmet sat atop his head, with a visor that had one-way glass   
covering his face. He walked proudly between the row of computers,   
ignoring the nervous-looking men standing to his sides. Reaching   
Colonel Headwear, he nodded curtly and reached to lift his visor. When   
it refused to budge, he shoved harder. Losing his temper, he smacked it   
with his fist. It flew up and he rammed his fist into his face, falling   
backwards. The men snickered.  
He stood up angrily and thundered, "Hey, shut up!" The men placed   
hands over their mouths and tried to ignore his bloody nose and black   
eye.  
"Good. Now, I heard that the Planet 'Do-iddysomething is in sight.   
I'm gonna alert President Scourge." Thunder Helmet pulled a cell phone   
shaped like a sword hilt and flipped it open.  
"I've already alerted him, sir!" Poor Foolish Idiot announced.   
Thunder Helmet turned on Poor Idiot with anger clear on his face.  
"You dare attempt to go over the helmet of the GREAT THUNDEROUS   
FACEFAULT!" No sooner had he uttered these words than he lurched   
forward and slammed his face onto the deck. He quickly stood up   
muttering about the curse of their race. A man in the background held   
up a cardboard cutout of a lightning bolt.  
"Um... I... didn't... mean to..." Idiot stammered, cowering.   
Headwear rolled his eyes, while Thunder Helmet reached under his cape   
and pulled out a ring and slipped in on his finger. "Aw, shit!" Idiot  
cried. "Not that!"  
"Yes," Thunder replied ominously, slapping down his visor, "that." So saying, he pointed the ring at Idiot, and a light shot from   
it, straight at his head. The other men watched in horror as all of his   
hair was dissolved before their very eyes. Idiot screamed and held his   
hands to his dome.  
"NOOO!!!" he cried, falling to his knees. "NO!"  
After he had been hauled off to be put in hairapy, Thunder Helmet   
turned to face Colonel Headwear. "Now that yonder poor, foolish idiot   
has been taken care of, how much closer to Planet 'Do-idia be we?"  
Headwear shrugged and gestured to the exit. "You'd have to check   
the radar."  
Helmet glanced at the door, then turned back to the colonel.   
"Where be-eth it?" he demanded.  
"Right this way, Helmet," Headwear replied, walking towards his   
destination. Helmet followed, not noticing the technician's worried   
expressions.  
Several hours later...  
"What iseth that ridiculous noise? You calleth this a radar   
machine?" Helmet demanded, standing in front of a contraption decorated   
with displays, lights, and switches.  
"Actually..." Headwear answered, tapping his finger against it.   
"We call it Mr. Word Processor. It's one of the most important machines   
on this ship. In fact, we wouldn't even exist if it weren't for-"  
"Who cares?!" Helmet cried, flipping up his visor. "We've been   
wandering all over this miserable ship for the past three hours, and   
you STILL haven't found the radar! We've been to the engine room, the   
mess hall, the locker room, the dormitories, and the lavatories!" he   
cried, ticking off the various locations on his fingers.  
"Sir?" a nearby technician ventured hesitantly.   
Helmet and Headwear turned to him, and asked, "Yes?"  
"You're back on the bridge. The radar is right there," he   
answered, pointing at a machine three feet from where the two had   
started.  
Thunder Helmet turned towards Headwear slowly, slipping his visor   
down as he did so. "WHO HAST MADE THOU THE COMMANDER OF THIS SHIP, YOU   
INCOMPE-" He was interrupted when Headwear flipped his visor up and   
stuffed a bandanna in his mouth.  
"Sir!" one man cried. "We're close to planet 'Do-idia! You might   
want to watch!"  
Helmet turned towards the view port. "Nymph? Ohmff! Off crshh."   
Headwear simply held his hands to his injured eardrums.  
  
***  
  
"Daddy," Princess Vexed said anxiously to her father, who was   
decked in the finest velvet and silk dougi in the land. "Do I really   
have to do this?"  
King Tendo nodded. "Of course! He's the only prince left, and you   
have to marry a prince! Besides, his family owns the largest hair-care   
company in the galaxy."  
"But I don't want to!" she cried indignantly, stamping her foot. A   
faint cracking sound could be heard.  
"Ve... vexed..." Tendo said, tears welling up in his eyes... "You   
HAVE to!" As he said the last bit, he burst into tears. "The school of   
Anything-Goes Hair Styling must go on!"  
Vexed sighed and rolled her eyes in an irritated manner. King   
Tendo swiftly recovered and called for the droid of honor. "Herba!   
Herba Lessences!"  
The droid swiftly bounced into the room, showing off the most   
developed technology in droid-making, among other things. "King call?   
Is wedding already?" she inquired, glancing at the princess's dress.  
"Of course! Starting on the left... or is it right? Ve-"  
"Forget it, daddy!" Vexed grumbled, angrily striding forward. The   
king was hard pressed to keep up. "Here Comes the Bride" was sped up to   
four times the original speed to match the princess's marching pace.  
Prince Nyquil bore a happy, dreamy expression on his face as he   
seemed to watch the princess with a half-lidded stare. The priest,   
seeing this, quickly nudged him awake.  
"Here comes Princess Vexed, knocking the groom's lights out,   
throwing me into the organ, and punching through the wall," the priest   
announced clearly, passing out after finishing.  
"Vexed! No!" King Tendo cried, rushing through the newly formed   
doorway.  
"Aiyah! What Princess do?" Herba cried, rushing after her.  
"Just get in!" Vexed shouted, jumping into a getawa- er,   
conveniently-located space car, and hitting the 'launch' button. Herba   
did as she was told.  
"Veeeexed!" Tendo cried, leaping after the car. Before he got very   
high into the air, however, he was tackled by one of his counselors.   
"What did you do that for?!" the king shouted.  
"But your majesty!" the counselor cried in a stricken voice. "What   
if you got exhaust in your hair?"  
"Oh," said King Tendo, blinking. "I guess you're right."  
  
***  
  
Herba Lessences glanced over at the princess. Her hair was done up   
in a huge bun, while much of it also hung down to her waist. There were   
two buns on the sides of her head, too. "Princess?" Herba inquired,   
staring at her from across the cockpit. "What you do that for?"  
Vexed didn't reply.  
"Vexed?" Herba repeated. The princess still didn't say anything.   
Herba sighed. "VEXED!" she shouted, cupping her hands to her mouth.   
Vexed shook her head, then lifted her entire hairdo off of her head,   
revealing hair that actually didn't quite go to her shoulders. Faint   
music could be heard from the two small buns, and the quiet whir of a   
CD came from the larger one.  
"Hm?" Vexed asked, tilting her head forward.  
"I ask, why you do that?" Herba repeated.  
"Because," the princess replied, "I hate him."  
"Oh," the droid said, blinking. "Won't you get in trouble?"  
Vexed shrugged. "Maybe. What's the worst that could happen?"  
"Haircut?" Herba suggested, absently fingering her own flowing   
artificial hair, which was nearly identical to the real stuff.  
Vexed shuddered, reaching back and feeling her own short hair.   
"No, not again. He wouldn't be able to deal with it."  
The faithful droid nodded in agreement, recollecting how it took   
all of the king's self control, as well as 592 pounds of concrete, to   
keep him from stopping the punishment.  
  
***  
  
"Eh? Of course there's no shortage of hair! Yes, of course of I'm   
sure. Yes, I'm positive. Yes, I swear by the Holy Face Bruise. Yes, I'm   
glad you know the truth, too." The president slapped the phone into the   
cradle and muttered, "Ingrate." Leaning back in his chair, the two-  
foot-high man stretched and yawned. After glancing around quickly to   
make sure no one was watching, he pulled one of the tufts of hair from   
the side of his head and scratched an itch it had covered. Suddenly,   
the view screen on his office wall flickered to life and he quickly   
slapped his hand to his head, fearfully staring at the face that had   
appeared.  
"President Scourge," the woman said briskly, ignoring his obscure   
pose, "We have word that Princess Vexed's car is within range. Would   
you like to step onto the bridge to view the happenings?"  
"Why sure, my pretty little... mind if I call you Ucchan?" Scourge   
said, grinning lecherously. The woman frowned, and Scourge had to jump   
back quickly to avoid the giant spatula that swung down from the   
ceiling. He briefly wondered how she had gotten one of this is his own   
office without him knowing. They seemed to be popping up everywhere.  
As the spatula raised back up, he snatched a panty that he had   
dropped under it. "Why thanks, now I don't have to iron these!"  
Lieutenant Kuonji stared bug eyed at the undergarment, then cried,   
"Hey, that's mine!" She quickly regained her composure and pushed a   
nearby Shiny Red Button. The spatula crackled, then promptly turned   
Scourge into charcoal.  
Terminating the connection, she turned to the rest of the crew and   
ordered, "When the president is feeling better, please lock him in a   
safe with a view port so that he may witness the capture of the   
princess without causing any trouble."  
"Aye, sir!"  
  
***  
  
"Sir, Princess Vexed's shuttle is right in front of us!" one man   
cried, pointing out the view port. Thunder Helmet turned to the window,   
while Colonel Headwear turned to the bathroom.  
"Excellent!" Helmet cried, jabbing a finger forward. "Fire a   
warning shot across her bow!"  
"But sir," one man said, peering out the window. "It doesn't have   
a bow."  
"Eh?" Headwear said, scratching his head. "Why not?"  
"It's a Mercedes, sir."  
"So what DOES it have?!" Thunder Helmet thundered from under his   
helmet at the informer.  
"Well, it has two drink holders, all-leather interior, a CD   
player, AM/FM radio..." the man said, ticking off on his fingers.   
Thunder Helmet and Colonel Headwear smacked him across the head.  
"I meant, instead of a bow!" Helmet roared. Headwear smacked   
Helmet across the head.  
"Stop roaring and thundering in my ear!" he grumbled, poking his   
left ear.  
Helmet was about to reply when he saw that the lasers were going   
everywhere except at the car. So were the rockets, fishing nets, and   
sumo pigs. "Hey!" he shouted, lifting his visor. "Who's wasting our   
livestock?!"  
"Sorry sir, doin' the best I can!" one man said, turning around.   
Helmet and Headwear saw that long chains hung from his sleeves and were   
intertwined with all the controls in front of him, and thick glasses   
were perched on top of his head. His most startling feature, however,   
was his long, flowing, dark hair.  
"Who is he?" Helmet demanded, whispering to Headwear.  
"Mousse, sir."  
"No, he's not."  
"Yes, sir, he is."  
"I can see clearly-" Helmet started angrily.  
"Now your hair is gone?" Headwear finished. Helmet snapped his   
teeth together and glared at the colonel.   
"Don't do that! I mean he's obviously a FaceFault-" *WHACK* Helmet   
quickly jumped up and wiped the blood away from his nose. "NOT a   
moose!"  
"That's his name, sir. And it's Mousse, not Moose," Headwear   
informed him.  
"Eh?" Thunder inquired, tilting his head to the side.  
"It's Mousse, not Moose, as in hear, not here, or heir, not air,"   
Headwear explained.  
Thunder Helmet scratched his helmet in obvious understanding.   
"Well, who made him a gunner, anyway?" he asked, glancing over at the   
man who was still waiting for an order.  
"I did sir," another man answered, talking to Mr. E-mail. "He's my   
brother." He too had long robes with chains hanging from the sleeves   
and oversized glasses on his forehead.  
"How many Mooses do we have on this ship, anyway?" Thunder Helmet   
inquired helplessly, looking around.  
"'Lo!" said nearly all the men in the room as they stood up,   
facing all different directions, all of them with glasses on their   
foreheads and loose sleeves.  
"Great," Helmet said in an exasperated tone, "I'm surrounded by   
Moose!"  
"I TOLD you," Headwear cried in an exasperated manner. "It's   
MOUSSE!"  
"That's what I SAID!" Thunder Helmet yelled.  
Headwear shook his head. "But we're all just a bunch of words!   
It's spelled out!"  
Helmet smacked the colonel over the head. "Dont preetend too hav   
mor nollij thann mee!" he growled dangerously.  
  
***  
  
Vexed and Herba jerked in surprise as lasers, rockets and farm   
animals flew past them.  
"Aiyah!" Herba exclaimed. "We is shotting at!" Vexed wondered for   
a second why they could create a droid that was nearly impossible to   
distinguish from a human, but they couldn't even install the voice   
chips facing the proper direction.  
Vexed quickly reached for a phone and dialed her home number. "Why   
can't I just escape from the planet in peace?" she lamented, while   
Herba shook her head.  
  
***  
  
Meanwhile, in a Winnebago, a young man was asleep at the wheel.   
It's not such a big issue in space, as there's not really much to run   
into. He was awakened from his slumber by the ringing that signaled an   
incoming video call. "Pop..." he muttered, shaking his head. "Pop!" he   
called, louder.  
In the back of the Winnebago, a panda was practicing a kata in a   
small room with black and white ceiling-to-floor carpeting.. He had the   
word "Belch" dyed into the fur of his chest. Hearing the boy's voice   
call him from the front of the bus, he stopped and grunted in   
frustration. He lumbered up into the cockpit and flicked the "Receive"   
switch, but not without attempting to stuff the boy into the glove   
compartment.  
The image of a tanned man in large red sunglasses and a small palm   
tree on his head appeared on the screen. [Whoops,] Belch's sign read.   
[Wrong switch.]  
"'Ey, keiki, 'ow you doin'?" the man greeted cheerfully.  
"Whatta ya want, Ninny?" the boy inquired impatiently.  
"Oh, but it not 'bout what I wan', it what SHE wan'," Ninny said,   
pointing to the side.   
The view scrolled over to reveal a woman sitting on a pile of   
velvet cushions with a wine glass in her hand.  
"BAKA THE HUTT!" the boy exclaimed, Belch's sign bearing the same   
message.  
"That's BIKI!" the woman shouted, then her eyes widened as a hair   
flew out of place. She snapped her fingers, and a servant instantly   
appeared with a tray of hair-care products. "Any way," she said drolly,   
"If it isn't Lone Stallion and his partner Burp."  
[That's Belch.]  
"When will you two be delivering the money which you owe me?" Biki   
inquired, ignoring the sign. She casually held her hand out for a   
manicure as she waited for a reply.  
"Aw, we'll get the ten-thousand to you next week," Lone Stallion   
said off-handedly, smirking.  
"Ten-thousand?" Biki questioned with raised eyebrows. "Haven't you   
ever heard of interest? If you factor that in, you owe me..." She   
stopped and placed her pinky to her lips. "One hundred-million   
spaceyen."  
"One hundred-million!?" Lone Stallion cried, jerking backwards.   
"Are you crazy?"  
"Of course not, dear," Biki said, sipping from her drink. "Why do   
you ask?" She held out her hand and Ninny instantly handed her a   
coconut with an umbrella and straw in it. Smiling, she terminated the   
connection.  
Lone Stallion and Belch stared at the now-blank screen. Belch's   
sign pretty much summed up both their thoughts right then. [Shit.]  
Stallion nodded.  
Just then, the ringing started again, and Belch hesitantly flipped   
the switch. To their relief, it was only a king. A king?  
"Please, Lone Stallion!" King Tendo cried, tears pouring from his   
eyes. "My daughter needs your help! You're the only one who is close   
enough to rescue her!"  
Stallion held up his hands. "Waitaminute, back up. Rescue who from   
who?"  
"My daughter from the FaceFaults!" *WHAP*  
[The FaceFaults?] *WHACK* Belch's face accidentally hit a button,   
and King Tendo's face was replaced by a war scene, the Ewoks versus the   
Pokemon. Quickly hitting the button again, and the king returned.  
"I don't know," Stallion said carefully, "About that. After all, I   
am number one on Thunder Helmet's hit list. And you know what happens   
to his victims." King Tendo shudder and ran a hand through his flowing   
locks.  
"But Lone Stallion!" he insisted. "I'll give you ANYTHING! Did you   
hear me? ANY..."  
[Even one of the famous Mountain 'Dos?] Belch inquired hopefully.  
"Well..." Tendo said, dropping his gaze.  
"How 'bout a hundred-million-spaceyen?" Stallion quickly   
suggested, glaring at the panda.  
"WHAT?" Tendo cried, and the screen was filled with a ghastly   
image of his face, with the inclusion of a forked tongue and glowing   
eyes.  
"AAUUUGGHHH!!!" Stallion cried, jumping backwards. "You SAID   
_anything_!"  
Tendo's head returned to normal, and he nodded reluctantly. "I...   
guess I did. Well, Lone Stallion, I'm counting on you!" With a tearful   
nod, he terminated the connection.  
Belch whirled upon Stallion. [You fool! Do you have any idea how   
badly I wanted the 'Do?!]  
  
***  
  
[Look! They're locked in the tractor beam of that ship!] Belch   
exclaimed, pointing at the scene in front of them. Lone Stallion nodded   
absent-mindedly.  
"We'll have to go in there and take them out in our Winnebago," he   
announced.  
Belch's eyes widened. [But they'll sense us!] he insisted,   
pointing at the millions of thin hairs that stuck out from the ship.  
Lone Stallion grinned. "I got everything under control," he said   
with a confident wave of his hand. Grinning, he pulled a pill-bottle   
out of his pocket and took one pill out. Glowing slightly, he tossed   
the pill at the FaceFault ship through a hole that had opened up in the   
windshield. When it impacted, every single hair on the ship dissolved.  
Belch whirled upon the boy. [What was THAT?] he demanded.  
"Oh, that?" Lone Stallion replied while pushing the cannon back   
down. "Just an anti-'dopressant."  
  
***  
  
Back on the FaceFault ship, one man blinked as the radar display   
was instantly replaced with static. Glancing around nervously, he   
looked back at the fuzzy display, and tapped the screen just as it   
stopped. He shrugged and reached for an microphone.  
At the front of the room, Helmet and Headwear heard the words,   
"Szlt! Crsht Ishr avsht yourshzz ttnnshins forst aminshppt?" They both   
turned in confusion to a large, yellow, plastic M with a speaker below   
it.  
Colonel Headwear glanced at Thunder Helmet. "Is that what you   
ordered?"  
"Nope," Helmet replied, shaking his head.  
"Shclr!" buzzed the speaker again.  
Helmet smacked his hand against the side of it in frustration.   
"NO!" he yelled. "I hate Coke! I want Pepsi!"  
Headwear tapped his shoulder and gestured at a man in front of a   
terminal waving to them. Helmet glanced back at the speaker, then   
shrugged and advanced upon the other man.  
"Yes?" he inquired, reaching him.  
"Weffl sklshm tz bszkt hvnn teshzzlkt..." the man explained.  
Helmet smacked him across the head and turned off the microphone.  
"We seem to be having trouble with the radar!" the man repeated.   
Helmet and Headwear peered at the empty screen.  
"What's wrong with it?" Helmet asked.  
The other man pointed at the screen, which was now filled with   
crazy displays of color, and clips of objects moving in slow-motion.   
"It's high."  
Helmet stared at the screen, before replying, "So it is."  
The man at the next terminal suddenly cried, "Sir! I'm getting a   
reading that our radar was destroyed be an anti-'dopressant! And that   
it's flight was powered by... arrogance!"  
Thunder Helmet jerked his head up at the last word. Slipping the   
visor over his eyes, he announced, "Only ONE man owneth such a   
ridiculous amount of arrogance...  
A man held up a cardboard cut-out of a lightning bolt above   
Thunder Helmet's head. However, it also closely resembled an arrow.  
"...and that man beeth LONE STALLION! I shall destroy that   
arrogant fiend!"  
"Fight fire with fire, I suppose," Headwear remarked thoughtfully.  
"Be quiet, or else I might smite thee," Helmet warned, then tried   
to lift his visor. "Now, how doseeth this confounded thing work again?"  
  
***  
  
"What that?" Herba cried as both she and Vexed heard a loud thump   
from the top of the car. Vexed looked upward as the top slid open,   
revealing a large, fat, black and white creature! Vexed, using the sort   
of logic she had used all of her life, punched its face in.  
The creature shook its head and fumbled around, eventually holding   
up a sign. [Owpth! Thapth hurpth!]  
Vexed pulled her fist back again. The creature's eyes widened and   
another sign popped up, revealing its true, good-hearted intentions.   
[DON'T HURT ME!!!] She planted her fist in its left eye.  
[We're here to help you!] the creature insisted, eyeing the   
princess's fist warily. She lowered it and removed the brass knuckles.  
"In that case, get out of my way!" she growled, shoving it aside   
and hopping out. Placing a foot on the ladder leading to the Winnebago,   
she paused and added, "Whatever you are."  
[I AM A PAN] its sign read in large, bold letters.   
Vexed blinked. "What's a pan?" she asked quizzically.  
*Fwip* [-DA]  
"Oh," Vexed said tonelessly. As Herba began climbing out, she   
said, "Well, if you're not doing anything, bring my bags, will you?"   
The panda sighed wearily.  
  
***  
  
Lone Stallion glanced backward and jerked in surprise. Belch was   
carrying several boxes and bags, and the strain on him was obvious to   
Stallion's highly-trained eye. All the signs were there; tripping over   
the tongue, eyes protruding four inches, dripping with sweat, shaking   
legs, and the wooden sigh reading, [HEAVY!!]  
"What the heck is that?" he exclaimed, watching as Belch collapsed   
under the bags with a crunching sound.  
[The princess's luggage,] Belch answered, the writing barely   
legible.  
"Jeee-zus! ALL that junk?" Stallion muttered, flipping the   
intercom switch. "Listen up!" he called arrogantly, "I'm the captain of   
this ship, and I say that that baggage is a hazard to my patience. It's   
going."  
In the rear, Vexed glowed brightly. "How DARE you say that! That's   
MY luggage and it STAYS!"  
"The ship steers like a beached whale with that junk in here!"   
Stallion shouted. "It's not stayin' here long..." he searched his mind   
for a proper way to address a true-blue princess. "...Tomboy!"  
"TOMBOY!?" Vexed fairly screamed. "I'll show YOU tomboy, you..."  
"Easily, no doubt," Stallion retorted.  
"Grrr..." Vexed ended the conversation by punching in the   
intercom. Herba stared at her with wide eyes.  
"That not good for health," she remarked sagely.  
  
***  
  
In a large room located near the bottom of the FaceFault ship, a   
large dishonor guard was standing around Thunder Helmet, watching   
alertly as the princess's car slowly rose up through a docking hatch in   
the floor. The men could practically FEEL the arrogant and victorious   
expression on Thunder Helmet's face, much to their pride. They could   
also SMELL what he had eaten for lunch, much to their anguish.  
"Princess Vixen," he started, stepping forward. One of the men   
looked like he was about to say something, then apparently changed his   
mind. "Thou art no doubt marveling at the skill we have presented in   
capturing thee. Our clever scheme to take thy planet's supply of hair   
is truly the greatest ever devised! None can defy the FACE- ah- Fa-   
um..." he faltered, glancing around. "...Us." He glanced over his   
shoulder, and gestured angrily at his most dishonored guard. The man   
blinked, then suddenly dropped his gun and lifted up a cardboard cut-  
out of a rabbit.  
He was later evicted from Thunder Helmet's dishonor guard.  
Finishing his speech, Helmet stepped up to the car and fumbled   
with the latch. He looked up at the men surrounding him and fumbled   
with it some more. After banging on the door a few times, he flipped   
his visor up and asked, "Has anyone got a key??"  
Colonel Headwear sighed and stepped up. After a careful analysis   
of the door and it's entire surface area, he held up a straight finger.   
Thunder Helmet's eyes widened and he started to shout, "NOT TH-" but   
never managed to finish.  
After the dust cloud settled, Headwear glanced at the twitching   
figure on the floor. "It's open," he offered. Helmet grumbled a reply   
that caused all men in the room to slap their hands over their heads.  
Once he stood up, he looked inside the car and shouted, "She's not   
in here! Dammit, you guys are supposed to be skillful!" The men glanced   
at each other and decided it would be best to not remind him who had   
been instructing them at the time.  
Suddenly, a technician ran into the room with news. "Sir, a   
Winnebago has been spotted to our port side!"  
"A... Winnebago...?" Thunder Helmet repeated, placing a hand to   
his chin. Suddenly, his head snapped up, and he shouted, "Aw man, it's   
that stupid Lone Stallion!" He blinked and glanced around at the un-  
awed faces. He quickly slapped his visor down and re-shouted, "Curses!   
It must be-eth that fiend, Lone Stallion!"  
The soon-to-be-evicted dishonor guard held up a cardboard cut-out   
of an ass.  
  
  
End Chapter 1  



	2. Covering Your Ears Won't Make the Words ...

HAIRBALLS  
By Leif Johnson  
  
CHAPTER 2  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from Spaceballs, or the   
characters from Ranma 1/2. Although, technically, these characters are   
from neither (different names, ya see). Well, they're mostly not my   
creation.  
  
To recap: Place cap back on head.  
Seriously: First, the good news. The hero you've been waiting for has arrived. The bad news is, he isn't real. He exists only in a fanfic, busy saving someone who ISN'T you. Too bad. Keep reading to see how good a job he does at saving the day, which also happens to not be YOUR day. So sorry. Enjoy the fic.  
  
***  
  
"Oh, they've found us," Lone Stallion deadpanned. Belch glanced up at the massive ship bearing down on them, and frowned. "Well, prepare for... Secret Omega E-Z Handy Portable Low-octane Compact No-batteries-included-some-assembly-required Hyper Jets!" Stallion cried, reading a receipt. Belch shot him a LOOK. Stallion frowned, then looked back at the receipt.  
"Oh yeah, (tm)."  
  
***  
  
On the bridge of the FaceFault ship, Thunder Helmet jabbed a finger at the view port and shouted, "Prepare to annoy!"  
"But sir!" Colonel Headwear replied. "That might not be enough!"  
"Well," Helmet said, pondering. "Then prepare to piss-off! On the count of 17!"   
Headwear turned looked at him skeptically, then glanced at a timer. "Sir, I don't think we have-"  
"1... 2... 3... 4... 5... 6..." Helmet counted, ignoring Colonel Headwear. Suddenly, a large cardboard cutout-which there seemed to be a lot of going around those days-of a middle finger popped up on top of the Winnebago. The small ship suddenly blasted off into HyperSuperMegaAmazingRectal Speed, which caused the cutout to tear off and stick against the windshield of the FaceFault Ow. At least, that's what Thunder Helmet had said while naming it.  
"What in the hells has happened?" Thunder Helmet thundered through his helmet before lifting his visor. "Where'd they go?"  
"I don't know, sir!" Headwear cried. "They must have..." he trailed off and read the receipt that was stuck to the cardboard finger. "Secret Omega E-Z Handy Portable Low-octane Compact No-batteries-included-some-assembly-required Hyper Jets!"  
"And what do we got on this thing?" Helmet demanded.  
"16,000 men, 300 droids, and one idiot in a black suit," Headwear replied.  
"I MEANT FOR ENGINES, SIMPLETON!!!" Helmet thundered. With his visor down, of course.  
"Oh. Well, we have the state-of-the-armpit-overpriced-" Headwear started, until Helmet pulled his ring out of his pocket. "-A good engine."  
"Then pursue that foul cretin to-eth the ends of the galaxy, if need be! He must not escape-eth!" Helmet ordered.  
Headwear grabbed a microphone and shouted, "Prepare ship for Smite Speed (tm)!"  
"NO!" Helmet cried. "Smite Speed, while quite impressive, is-eth much too slow! We will have to use... THUNDEROUS SPEED!" He glanced around at the men after his stunning announcement.  
"Um... sir?" one man tentatively asked. Helmet looked at him questioningly. "There's no such thing."  
"What?!" Helmet shouted. "We do not have a speed named in the honor of the GREAT THUN-"  
Headwear rolled his eyes and flipped Helmet's visor up.  
"-der Helmet." Helmet blinked, then glanced around. "You RUINED it!" he groaned, smacking the colonel. "Aw well, we'll have to go for... A RIDICULOUS CROSS-OVER!" he announced, jabbing his finger high. "Like.... Insane and Silly!"  
"A C-CROSS-OVER?!?" Headwear stuttered. "Between Insane?! And Silly?!"  
"What's the matter, Colonel Headwear?" Helmet taunted. "Got a few gray hairs? Or maybe... something worse?" He chuckled and reached for the bandanna on Headwear's head as he said the last part.  
Headwear slapped his hands away and squeaked into the microphone, "Prepare for a Cross-over between Insane and Silly speeds!" As lights flashed after the announcement, Headwear strapped himself into a chair and glanced up at the still-standing Thunder Helmet. "Shouldn't you strap yourself down?"  
"NONSENSE!" Helmet cried, resting his hands on a metal bar. "Nothing can uproot the GREATEST FACEFAULT EVE-" *WHACK*  
"Ooh!" Headwear said, cringing. "That's gonna leave a mark."  
"Insane and Silly Cross-over, ENGAGED!" shouted one of the men. The ship lurched forward and Helmet flew backwards, barely managing to catch his toe on the bar. As he seemed to float in the air, hanging on by one toe, arms flailing wildly, he still managed to say something awe-inspiring.  
"EEEEEK!"  
  
***  
  
Belch and Lone Stallion jerked backwards in surprise as a blur passed over their heads, leaving an odd mess of wavy, frizzy lines in its path.  
[The hell was that?]  
"The Facefault OW!" Stallion cried, bashing his face on the control panel.  
[They've gotten a perm!] Belch stated, awed.  
"Really?" Stallion asked, looking up and wiping the blood from his nose. "Sad."  
  
***  
  
"We passed them!" Headwear cried, cringing as the G-forces seemed to yank every cell of his body.  
"Then stop!" an unfamiliar voiced squealed.  
Headwear twisted to see Thunder Helmet doing a rather uncomfortable-looking and daring mix of gymnastics and contortionism, all in an attempt to keep himself from flying off of the bar. He briefly wondered why he didn't just grab the handles, but pushed it out of his mind. "It's too dangerous!" he answered. "We have to slow down first!"  
Helmet responded by covering up a stain in his pants. "Stop, dammit! NOW!"  
Headwear turned and reached slowly for a lever with an inscription on its base that read: DANGER. Do not use when engaged in truly insane and simply silly cross-overs.  
The ship lurched to a stop, while larger amounts of lurching was occurring within the majority of the ship's occupant's stomachs. Helmet shrieked and flew forward, slamming his head into a control panel.  
The men all unbuckled and a few ran to Helmet's aid because they were paid to. He stood up shakily and glanced around, sporting a bruise on his forehead that looked suspiciously like the word "bufoon."  
"Are you okay, sir?" one of the men at Helmet's side asked.  
Helmet glanced over at him and blinked. "Nani?"  
"What's the matter with you?" Headwear cried, poking him in the forehead.  
Helmet smacked his hand away. "Quit it, baka!"  
Headwear stared at him. "Sir?"  
"Hai?" Helmet replied.  
"Oh, no. That blow to his head..." Headwear said in a horrified tone. "...Must have cursed him with... GRATUITOUS JAPANESE!"  
"OH NO!" the rest of the men cried.  
"Oro?"  
  
***  
  
"Ack!" cried Lone Stallion, looking at a gauge on the control panel. "We're running on empty!"  
[Then how are we still going?] Belch inquired.  
"Ummm..." Stallion replied, "I'm not sure. I guess the engine doesn't know it yet."  
[Then what's the problem? Let it stay ignorant.] Belch supplied with a casual wave of his paw.  
Suddenly, a message popped up on the view screen: -I do not know that we are running on empty.-  
[See?] Belch said.  
-....Not! Suckers!-  
[Damn.]  
Lone Stallion frantically worked to keep the Winnebago from spinning out of control and guide it onto the closest planet's surface. "Just hang tight, cause I'm gonna land this thing on that planet down there," he announced into the intercom.  
In the back room, Princess Vexed pushed the intercom switch and asked, "Why? What's wrong with you? I don't want to go THERE!"  
"Because," Lone Stallion replied, "We're out of fuel."  
"How could you run out of fuel at a time like THIS?!" Vexed shouted. "How dumb can you get?!"  
"Hey! Listen here, tomboy..." Stallion started.  
"For YOUR information, I am the princess of the planet 'Do-idia!" Vexed retorted angrily. Herba boredly drew small cats on the black and white spotted walls.  
"Great," Stallion muttered, "Just what we need. A 'Do-able princess."  
"THAT'S 'DO-ISH! *ISH*, YOU PERVERT!" Vexed screamed. Herba donned sunglasses to protect herself from the glaring battle aura. The wallpaper melted.  
  
***  
  
As the Winnebago neared the barren planet's surface, the heroic, handsome, dashing, not-quite-charming, arrogant, kinda selfish, rude, loud mouthed, pig-tailed, stubborn-  
"Do you MIND?!" Lone Stallion shouts. "We're in the middle of a suspenseful scene, and you're wasting time!"   
He doesn't show very much respect, either.   
"Doesn't this sorta count as an SI?" he asks, impatience clear on his face.  
He is wrong, of course, but, more important things are happening.  
"Damn straight," he mutters. What foul language.  
Anyway, the... pilot... of the ship worked frantically to keep his fine vessel from crashing into the planet's surface, which would thus shorten the story, not to mention his lifespan. He turned to Belch, who had fear deeply etched into his face. The marks would eventually come out, though, so there was no reason to worry. "Say something morally supportive!" Lone Stallion shouted.  
Belch flipped a switch, placed his hands together and closed his eyes as music drifted through the cockpit.  
-Kumbayaaaa, my lord, Kumbayaaaaa...-  
"Oh, for the love of God!" Stallion cried, slapping the switch off. "What are ya trying to do, kill me?"  
[I find it spiritually uplifting,] Belch replied indignantly.  
"Go stuff yourself," Stallion muttered. He suddenly perked up and began wrestling furiously with the controls. "We're about to land!" he cried. "Brace for impact!"  
  
***  
  
"Is Princess sure this what Captain meant?" Herba asked tentatively.  
"I think so, but it does seem odd..." Vexed replied, frowning. They both turned towards each other and offered feeble grins, revealing two rows of metal across their teeth.  
  
***  
  
"Are the impact sensors on?" Lone Stallion inquired, observing a rather scary-looking sand dune ahead.  
[Roger!]  
"Who?" Stallion asked, then quickly focused on what he was doing. The Winnebago shook as it bumped against a sand dune.  
-Whoa, there, pardner! You just went'n got a lil' roughed up!-  
"I thought I told you to change the impact sensor warning signal!" Stallion shouted at Belch, who shrugged helplessly. The Winnebago bumped across another dune.  
-Whoa, there, pardner! You just went'n got a lil' roughed up!-  
And another.  
-Whoa, there, pardner! You just went'n got a lil' roughed up!-  
-Whoa, there, par-  
-Whoa, the-  
-Whoa, there, pardner! You j-  
-Whoa-  
"JESUS CHRIST, TURN IT OFF!!!" Stallion shrieked, slamming his fist on the panel. The ship abruptly tipped forward, plowed into a dune, and stopped.  
  
***  
  
"What you doing?" Herba asked Vexed, who stood up and straightened out her gown angrily.  
"*I* am going to go teach that man a lesson!" Vexed growled, stepping towards the door.  
  
***  
  
"Call me a pervert? I'm gonna go back there and explain something to her!" Lone Stallion said, unbuckling.  
[But you haven't seen her yet!] Belch wrote, his eyes wide.  
"Oh, I don't need to. I've seen princesses before. They're all chubby, long-toothed..."  
  
***  
  
"Wait!" Herba cried. "He our only ticket out! Besides, he have sexy voice. Might be cute."  
"Oh, please!" Vexed groaned, rolling her eyes. "I've seen these space jockeys before. They're all fat, ugly..."  
  
***  
  
"...Long-nosed, big-chinned..."  
  
***  
  
"...Balding, unbathed..."  
  
***  
  
"...Grotesque ANIMALS!"  
[Watch it there, boy.]  
"Sorry."  
  
***  
  
"...Disgusting PIGS! It's like they all came off an assembly line, like a bunch of ROBOTS!"  
"Princess..."  
"Sorry."  
  
***  
  
Both young, care-free individuals burst into the cabin separating the cockpit from the back room. They both faltered slightly, but regained their mental footing and launched their verbal assaults.  
"Now look here, Princess," Stallion started. "You will ONLY refer to me as 'Pervert.' I will be nothing BUT 'Pervert.'"  
"You WHAT?!" Vexed shouted, whipping out a mallet. "PERVERT!"  
Belch poked his head through the door and looked down at the twitching boy. [He needed that.]  
Herba poked her head through the door and looked at the seething princess. "She need that."  
[If you're done, I suggest we leave now. There are a bunch of not-very-bright individuals with very large guns who will soon discover us, and leave us in a very unsavory position,] Belch announced, holding up seven signs.  
Vexed tilted her head to the side and asked, "Where do you keep all those?"  
Belch shrugged, and quickly scrambled to catch the signs he dropped.  
"Alright," Stallion groaned, "Let's get going."  
"Wait!" cried the princess. "My things."  
"Now look here, take ONLY what I need to survive," Stallion said, glaring at her.  
Vexed held her mallet high.  
"Takewhateveryouwant! Takewhateveryouwant!"  
Belch nodded knowingly and held up a sign. [Yup, he's whipped.]  
  
***  
  
The foursome soon found themselves marching along the sand dunes underneath the sweltering sun. Vexed carried a purse, while Herba pulled a medium sized bag with wheels behind her. Lone Stallion and Belch were struggling with a large box, each guessing that it weighed somewhere between 200 pounds and seven tons.  
"Okay... that's enough. Put it down, Pop," Stallion grunted, dropping his end of the box he had been carrying. He walked to the front of it, looking down. "What the hell's in this frigging thing, anyway?" He bent over and opened it, then stared at what was inside.  
[What the...] Belch wrote, looking in.  
"BRICKS?!? I've been lugging around 86,000 pounds of BRICKS?!?" Stallion shrieked. "I said take only what you need to survive!" he shouted at the princess.  
"You said take whatever I want," Vexed retorted.  
"Well, this is just RIDICULOUS! If you want these useless pieces of rock..."  
[Bricks aren't made of rock.]  
"Shut up. If you want them, YOU carry them," he stated, holding one out to her. She eyed it for a second, then swung her fist around and broke it in two. "Jeezus!" Stallion cried, jumping back.  
"I use them for exercise and stress relief," Princess Vexed said airily. "Both of which are very important." Stallion contemplated her words and looked over at the box. He slammed his fist into it, shattering several of the bricks.  
"Ooh, I can do that tooo," Lone Stallion mocked. Vexed strode forward and slammed HER fist into the box, shattering several more bricks.  
"So?" she said indignantly.  
Herba and Belch crossed their arms, safely out of the range of flying brick shards. "When they grow up?" Herba asked no one in particular. Belch sighed and watched the two youngsters smash bricks like a couple of kids fighting over a piece of bubble wrap. Ah, youth.  
  
***  
  
"Have you located them yet?" Thunder Helmet asked, holding a coffee mug. Colonel Headwear stood at a viewing screen with another man, waiting impatiently.  
"No, sir," Headwear replied.  
"GODDAMMIT TO HELL THOSE STUPID SONS OF BITHCES I'LL KICK THEIR ASSES FROM HERE TO JAMAICA!" Helmet cried, lurching around and kicking chairs. He stopped abruptly and took another sip from his mug. "Now, found anything yet?"  
"No, sir," Headwear replied wearily.  
"FUCK THOSE LOUSY BASTARDS I'LL FEED THEM TO THE MOTHERFUCKING BOARS WHEN WE GET THEM I'LL RAM FUCKING SKEWERS UP THEIR FUCKING ASSES!" Helmet shouted, slamming his fist into the wall. He stopped and took another sip. "Found anything yet?"  
Headwear sighed. "No, sir."  
"Damn."  
Headwear turned to him in surprise.  
"-IT TO HELL! I'LL RIP THOSE PIECE OF SHITS APART WITH MY BARE HANDS AND SMEAR THEIR INTESTINES ON MY HELMET!" He stopped shouting and drank again.  
"Didn't I warn you to man the Tourette's?" Headwear said to a drowsy-looking man at a terminal, who apologized profusely and flipped a switch.  
"Found anything yet?" Helmet inquired.  
"No, sir," Headwear replied. After Helmet didn't burst into obscenities, he suddenly perked up. "Wait! I have an idea! You! Fetch me a copy of 'Hairballs' the fanfic!" The man he had spoken to rushed over to Mr. Archive.  
"Colonel Headwear!" Helmet said. "Can I speak to you for a moment, please!" Headwear shrugged and walked over. Helmet flipped up his visor and asked in a rush, "How can there be a copy of 'Hairballs' the fanfic? The author's still in the middle of writing it!"  
"It's a new breakthrough in home word processing. The fanfic can be in people's inboxes BEFORE it's completed," Headwear explained proudly.  
Helmet stared at him for a moment, then said, "Can't be. Are you trying to put one over my Helmet?"  
"Here it is, sir!" the man Headwear had ordered earlier announced, holding up a printout. Helmet jerked in surprise, spilling the contents of his mug in his lap. This was followed by silence, for exactly one second.  
"EEEEEEEEYAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!! HOTHOTHOTHOTHOT!!!" Thunder Helmet screamed majestically, running around like a headless chicken. He grabbed another thermos full of cold water and slapped it on his crotch. He sighed loudly. Suddenly, the wall he was standing in front of flickered and Lieutenant Kuonji appeared.   
"Sir! I.." She trailed off and stared at the sight before her. Thunder Helmet, holding a rather long thermos on his crotch, stared back. "... Nevermind," she muttered, closing the connection. Helmet stared around wildly at the men, then stood up straight.  
"Well, back to business. You were saying...?" he said, gesturing to the man holding the printout.  
"Er... Yes! Of course. Here it is. 'Hairballs' the fanfic." The man tentatively held the papers out to Thunder Helmet, who snatched them and began reading.  
It read: -Ranma smirked and as his tower of passion stood ramrod straight, glistening and quivering in the lust-filled air. Akane stared at it, then cried out in pleasure as he gave her the hot beef injection, thrusting deep into her love tunnel repeatedly. She moaned and twisted as his rod of love slid in and out of her slippery jade gates, and could feel his shaft buck and jerk, spilling his life seed into her-  
The men all watched Helmet raptly. He was apparently frozen in place. The man who had handed him the fanfic looked at the papers lying on his desk, and gasped. "Sir!" he cried, snatching the papers. "That's the wrong fic!" Helmet ignored him, drooling. Headwear smacked him over the head.  
Helmet shook his head, then looked around. "...uh ..." he muttered, glancing back down at the paper. "Who... who wrote this... um... filth... anyway?" he demanded not-too-convincingly while shoving it in his pocket. He grabbed the real thing and began reading.  
It read: -Helmet shook his head, then looked around. "...uh ..." he muttered, glancing back down at the paper. "Who... who wrote this... um... filth... anyway?" he demanded not-too-convincingly while shoving it in his pocket. He grabbed the real thing and began reading.-  
Helmet jerked his head up, then looked around. Headwear was reading over his shoulder, also looking surprised. Headwear began reading again, unaware of how ridiculous he looked with a thermos still on his crotch.  
It read: -Headwear began reading again, unaware of how ridiculous he looked with a thermos still on his crotch.-  
Helmet looked downwards at the thermos, gave a strangled squawk, then slapped it off. He looked around nervously, then began reading again. A man in the background held up a cardboard cut-out of a nut.  
It read: - A man in the background held up a cardboard cut-out of a nut.-  
Helmet whirled around, looking for the guilty party. One man held a cut-out of an arrow pointing at the man next to him, grinning nervously. The other man lost his hair very quickly. "What the heck's going on here?" Helmet cried ignorantly, looking at the papers with a stupid expression. "This is crazy!" he shouted in an insane and unreasonable voice. His ridiculous oversized helmet sat upon his fat head, making him look rather dumb. He lifted the precious papers again and began reading at a very slow speed.  
After a few seconds, he reddened, then looked up. "Okay, this isn't funny anymore!" Except that it was. "I mean it!" he yelled, ignoring the righteously confused expressions of the men while making a complete fool of himself. While Thunder Idiot started swearing a blue streak, Colonel Headwear picked up the paper and glanced at it.  
"Sir?" he said carefully. Helmet quit cursing at the ceiling and turned to him questioningly. "It says here that they are currently on Rootevega."  
"What?" Thunder Helmet asked in a confused manner.  
"We should set a course and prepare for arrival!" Headwear cried, gesturing for the men to do so.  
"When?" Helmet cried.  
"Oh, in 1900 hours," Headwear suggested.  
"1900 HOURS?!?" Helmet shrieked. "That's too long!"  
"Military mumbo jumbo, sir," Headwear explained patiently.  
"Why do we have to use military time units?" Helmet demanded. "We have our own system, don't we?"  
"Yes, but the reader doesn't know it, and it would confuse them and piss them off, making them stop reading," Headwear replied.  
"Well, can't we explain it?" Helmet asked, waving his arms in the air impatiently.  
"Yes, but it would be pointless when we can just use normal units everyone is familiar with!" Headwear shouted.  
"But *I* wasn't familiar with it!" Helmet yelled.  
"That's cause you've been struck by lightning IN THE HEAD four times now!" Headwear countered, shoving him.  
"So?" Helmet demanded, shoving him back. "It has inspired me!"  
"Well, why didn't you call yourself LIGHTNING Helmet?" Headwear inquired.  
"'Tis too obvious, and would make it harder for the reader to identify my alter-ego," Helmet explained in a strange, logical voice.  
"We're not supposed to know that!" Headwear cried, shushing him.  
  
***  
  
Princess Vexed sat near the campfire, wishing that it was a little closer. But, out here in the desert, there weren't any servants to move it for her. She sighed. Being a princess wasn't easy.  
Lone Stallion was suddenly upon her, his filthy hands reaching for her exposed skin... So she whipped around and punched him in the fuel tanks. His eyes rolled back in his head and he fell backwards, groaning. She smiled satisfactorily; served him right for trying to take advantage of her!  
"Just... trying... ohhh...." Stallion moaned, sitting up. "To offer... my coooat...." He crawled towards the fire and hunched next to her, over the luggage box she was sitting on. He dropped the coat in her lap and collapsed, catching his breath. She stared at him for a second, then shoved the coat away.  
"I don't need it," she adamantly declared.  
"What?!" Stallion cried, which came out as more of a tortured squeak. "You try to cripple me and then won't accept my offer?! Take it, it's freezing!"  
"Oh, I guess," Vexed said, relenting. She slipped it on not-to-reluctantly and asked, "Won't you be cold?"  
"Yes."  
"...." Vexed stared at him intently.  
An internal mini-Belch appeared in Lone Stallion's mind and smacked him with a sign. [Fool! Obey your testosterone!]  
"... I mean, no, of course not," Stallion said quickly, cursing himself for his slip. How unmanly could you get?  
Vexed stared up at the sky and sighed. "I can't find 'Do-idia anywhere," she said mournfully, looking off in the wrong direction.  
"Well, if you would spend less attention on your hairdo, and watch the skies a little more, you just might have a better chance," Stallion said roughly.  
"And how am I supposed to be able to see Do-idia in the sky when I'm usually ON it?" Vexed countered smugly. Stallion opened his mouth to reply, realized she was right, then nearly suffered a seizure for said realization. He instead formulated a reply to her first statement.  
"It's over there, that bright green one," he said, pointing. Vexed leaned closer to get a better look. Lone Stallion was acutely aware of the fact that she had just leaned closer.  
"Oh yeah! But it's so far..." she said, then turned towards him, realizing how close their faces were. Stallion could sense the feeling in the air and swallowed slightly. Vexed, realizing the mood they were drifting into, reacted accordingly and malleted him.  
"What the hell's the matter with you, anyway?" Stallion hissed, rubbing his head.  
"I'm protecting myself," Vexed stated matter-of-factly.   
Stallion slapped a hand to his face. "From what?"  
"You."  
"Eh? ME?! Hey, you got it all wrong!" he protested, waving his arms, because everyone knows that that always helps to convince women that you're not lying, perhaps to "get some." Vexed, however, also knew what this particular type of arm-waving had a chance of meaning, and malleted him again.  
"Pervert!" she shouted. She suddenly paused, then pulled a small book out of her pocket and flipped through it. Stallion squinted and read the title as "The Princess's Guide to Deflecting Perverts (AKA Men)."  
"What the..." he trailed off in disbelief. "Who the hell gave you that?"  
"My Social Affairs teacher," Vexed answered promptly. Stallion conjured a mental picture of a... lesbian. He groaned.  
"Let me tell you something," he said, sitting back down next to her and plucking the book out of her fingers. "Not all men are perverts, and not all perverts are men. This teacher of yours was extremely prejudiced and must have never gotten any. Do you see what I'm trying to tell you?"  
"I think..." Vexed said slowly. Stallion brightened. "You're saying I don't know anything!" she cried, raising her mallet again.  
"Waitwaitwaitwaitwait!" Stallion squealed, covering his head. "Listen to me! I'm not a pervert! I'm NOT a pervert!" Vexed slowly lowered her mallet.  
"Are you saying that everything I know is wrong?" she asked quietly.  
"As far as men and perversions go, yes," Stallion answered. "But it's not your fault. Don't blame yourself. Or me. It's DEFINITELY not my fault." The mallet now gone, Vexed slowly sat down next to Stallion. She glanced over at him, then gazed into the dancing flames in front of her. Stallion watched apprehensively as she sighed, then leaned against his shoulder.  
"It's just such a shock, that's all," she said quietly. Stallion gulped and stared at his arm, which seemed to be wanting to place itself around her shoulder, an idea he wasn't sure was such a good one. Freud had formulated a theory that human thinking could be separated into three different levels: The id, the ego, and the superego. The id dealt with basic primal instincts: Get close to woman. The ego dealt with how to go about satisfying these instincts: Place arm around shoulder. The superego dealt with the right and wrong of the issue: Girl may not WANT arm around shoulder, and decide that owner of said arm deserved an ass-whoopin.  
Of course, Lone Stallion thought that "psychology" was an ice-cream flavor and that "Freud" was something you did on your tax forms, so he was still lost. He eventually gave in to the id and placed his arm around her shoulder. Both of the two young adults stiffened, then slowly relaxed. Stallion looked down at Vexed, and she at him. They slowly moved towards each other, eyes closing...  
Lone Stallion was QUITE rudely interrupted by a loud noise that he soon realized was his own voice swearing in frustration and pain. He at first cursed himself for falling into a situation like that, then cursed Vexed for making him fall into a situation like that, then cursed Belch for snoring so damned loud. Then, he realized how hard it was to curse with a mouthful of sand and jumped up, looking around wildly. He saw a surprised-looking Vexed still sitting on the box, an angry-looking Herba standing up, and a dented bicycle lying nearby.  
"Thub ub bu bah?" he asked in disbelief, pointing randomly.  
"THAT virgin alarm, like bomb set to blow before you do," Herba explained angrily.   
Belch, who had been awakened by the tinkling of bicycle bells, sat up and held a sign that read, [Actually, I believe that the woman usually does the b-]  
"That quite enough," Herba said, hefting a pair of wicked-looking maces. Belch, who had always suffered from sensitive eyes and the memories of a bad childhood experience involving pepper, abruptly stopped writing.  
  
***  
  
The four weary travelers stumbled across the sand dunes, each incredibly thirsty, and none in the best of spirits. Stallion, sensing this, decided that some morale-boosting singing was in hand. "If you know the tune, sing along!" he shouted.   
Vexed raised her head in surprise. "He's not going to..."  
"Row, row, row your boat, gently down the STREAM..." Stallion sang, throwing his head back. Everyone else's eyes widened. "Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, life is but a dream!"  
"Stream..." Vexed murmered.  
"The itsy bits spider, went up the WATER spout. Down came the RAIN and washed the spider out!"  
[Rain...] read Belch's sign.  
"Siiiinging' in the RAIN!"  
"Uh oh..." Herba said, noticing the effect Stallion was having on her companions. It was definitely NOT a good one.  
"Rising up to the challenge of our rival! And the last lone survivor stalks his prey in the night, and he's watching us all in the eeeeeye..."  
"Wha...?" Vexed muttered.  
"Of the hm-hm," Stallion sang, oblivious to the stares he was receiving.  
[Enough!] Belch's sign read as he smashed it into Stallion's head. Stallion punched him in the face and the two almost started fighting, until they realized that they were busy crossing an endless desert, and that sort of thing took concentration. To put it more accurately, however, they were pooped.  
After a few more minutes of silence, much to everyone else's relief, Stallion decided that silence was boring. "EXIT LIGHT! ENTER NIGHT! TAKE MY HAND! WE'RE OFF TO NEVER-NEVER LAND!"  
Vexed decided that that was a good idea and promptly sent him there, courtesy of her mallet.  
  
  
  
End chapter 2  



End file.
